Courage
by laureleaf
Summary: Fear can make even the simplest things difficult. Friends can help you find your courage. Just a little drabble set after Frodo sailed to the Undying Lands.


"Rosie?" her dear Samwise called from the pantry. She instantly put down her needlework and started towards the door. She had never heard her stalwart husband use that tone of voice before.

"What is it, my dear?" she called warily. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

"C-Come here, please," he stuttered. Rosie picked up her skirts and ran. Her Sam did not stammer. Rosie swung open the worn door (some of the unsightly scuffs were supposedly caused by Mr. Bilbo's famous dwarf friends) and quickly scanned the room for whatever it was that was so amiss.

"Rosie? Thank goodness," her husband breathed, his shoulders slumping with relief. Finding nothing wrong with the cozy room, she quirked a questioning eyebrow.

"S-Spider," he whispered, eyes darting to a dark corner under a shelf. "Get rid of it. Please."

Was that all? She never suspected her Sam to be an arachnophobe. It was a common enough fear, she granted. That didn't mean Rosie wouldn't indulge in a little teasing.

"What, my fearless Samwise the Brave scared of a little bug? I thought there was an orc or something in here. Don't frighten me like that!" she reprimanded.

"I would almost rather the orc," Sam muttered under his breath as she chased the little thing out from under the shelf and into her hand.

"Now look here, Samwise Gamgee," she lectured, turning back to her husband with her prize displayed.

She froze.

Her Sam, her brave, brave, Sam, was pale as one of her doilies with his eyes squeezed shut, quaking with fear.

"Is it gone?" he gritted out between clenched teeth.

Rosie threw the spider out the window with much more force than was strictly necessary. She hadn't meant to disturb her husband so: she was only trying to make him feel better by making light of the situation!

"My dear, what is wrong? Tell me. Let me help," she soothed, running her hands gently over her husband's shivering frame. He leaned into her touch, gripping her tightly as he buried his head into her shoulder.

"I was never afraid before: I couldn't be. I didn't have time to be afraid," Sam whispered, almost to himself.

"What are you talking about Sam?" Rosie asked, confused.

"I didn't have time to be afraid," Sam repeated. "Mr. Frodo had been taken by that monster Shelob and I had to save him before he was eaten."

That didn't make sense either, and she told her husband as much.

"Shelob was a spider, Rosie. It guarded the tunnel into Mordor." Sam took a deep breath, centering himself. "It was huge, Rosie. Bigger than two horses. With fangs as big as my leg and eyes that glinted like…" he paused, shuddering. "I can't see a small one now without my mind expanding it into that nightmare."

Her sweet, selfless, stalwart Sam. Rosie held him even tighter. He didn't often speak of his adventures: the memories were rarely pleasant. She was so blessed that he'd made it home safe and sound. It was an even bigger miracle that _he_ was whole, unlike poor Mr. Frodo, who'd returned a ghost of his former self.

"How did you defeat Shelob then?" Rosie asked after a moment. Perhaps they could use a similar technique to defeat the everyday spiders in the Shire. Or perhaps thinking about his victory would help turn his mind towards brighter things.

"I blinded it with Lady Galadriel's light and stabbed it with Sting," Sam said simply. He seemed to read her mind. "Mr. Frodo took the Evenstar over the sea with him, and Sting is a bit of an overkill for household pests." Rosie allowed him to guide the conversation wherever he wanted to: she had no desire to make her husband relive the horrific details.

"I think the furniture would agree with that assessment," Rosie smiled back. "Now let's get you some tea and then we shall have a nice walk over to your gaffer's to collect some hedgeapples. Those should keep those dreadful spiders at bay."

Sam kissed her cheek. "And if they don't?" he asked softly.

"Then I shall draw my mighty duster and defeat them with one mighty sweep of my broom!" she cried theatrically.

Sam laughed heartily, the glad sparkle returning in his eyes. "Not with that posture, you aren't. I expect drawing a mighty duster is like drawing a little sword, and that is actually quite tricky..."

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A/N

Hi *sheepish wave* It's been a long while. Life happened, and I got out of the habit of writing. Things slowed down, and I got back into the habit of writing but not publishing. Even though I know I have nothing to fear from you wonderful readers, it is still scary to put my work online. I admit to being something of a coward: it's so easy to find some excuse to do just one more rewrite instead of actually publishing.

Thank goodness for excellent encouraging betas like star-eye and inspiring characters like Sam: they gave me the kick in the pants I needed to get this show on the road. I've got quite a few stories stockpiled, so hopefully I'll be able to post with reasonable frequency for the next few months at least.

Thank you for all of your reviews and support 3


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